


A Better Tomorrow (Pre-Derek/Spencer)

by Peter_Pansexual



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Bisexual Morgan, Bisexual Spencer Reid, Depression, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone Needs A Hug, Father Figures, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Spencer, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Male Friendship, Male Slash, Male-Female Friendship, Memories, Memory Loss, Men Crying, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), One Shot, Original Character(s), POV Derek, Pre-Slash, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Schizophrenia, Schizophrenic Spencer Reid, Short, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, depressed spencer reid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 14:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18606784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peter_Pansexual/pseuds/Peter_Pansexual
Summary: After the death of Diana Reid, Spencer has been struggling with his mental health. The whole team is forced to watch as their boy genius suffers in silence. Little do they know he has picked back up his unhealthy coping mechanisms. One day he doesn’t show up for work. He always shows up for work…---Can be read as either romantic or not. It's rather ambiguous.Trigger warning: Depression, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, self-harm, and minor character death. Stay safe!





	A Better Tomorrow (Pre-Derek/Spencer)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this based on my experience with depression and suicidal thoughts. I have faced a lot of shit before and after I stopped trying to end my life but I am so glad that I chose life. You will be too if you stick around. Stay safe and God bless!  
> U.S. National Suicide Hotline: Call 1-800-273-8255 (If you are outside the U.S. I have an international list on my profile page that you can go to).

Derek knew something was wrong. Spencer had been like this for weeks, but there was no way to stop it. None of the team had ever seen him like this. Before when he grieved, he would seek the comfort of Derek or JJ. Derek would hold him as he broke down. Often times he would comb his fingers through Spencer’s hair and rub his lower back until he fell asleep. Then, with time, he would begin to heal, but this was different. 

Diana was more than a victim he failed to save. She was more than a team member moving on. She was his motivation for getting up in the morning. She was his proof that not all people are bad. She was his mother. The person who he loved most in the world and she was gone. 

Her death wasn’t exactly sudden. Spencer had told the team that her health had been slowly decreasing over the years, but none of them expected for her to die while they were on a case. Derek had been in the room when Spencer got the call. The case had been awful from the start. Two children missing. They were separated from their parents at the fair and had been abducted by someone who they suspected worked at the fair. Derek had been reviewing the case while Spencer was looking for a connection between victims in hopes of preventing a third. 

“Hello?” Morgan heard Reid say. “Yes, this is him.”

Morgan continued to scan over the files, not paying much attention to Reid as the man walked out of the small room. Twenty minutes later, Morgan rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. He stood up, needing to stretch his legs. He figured a small break wouldn’t hurt anyone so he headed outside. 

Once he got out there, he saw Reid sitting on the bench in front of the station. He was like a statue. His eyes staring off into nothing and his hand weakly holding his cell phone. 

“Reid?” 

He didn’t respond. Almost like he didn’t hear Morgan at all. 

“Hey, kid, are you okay?” Morgan asked, putting his hand on Reid’s shoulder. He didn’t jerk back or turn his head. All he did was blink. Morgan wasn’t sure if it was the wind or the way Reid was acting that made him have goosebumps. Another moment of awkward silence passed, then Reid spoke.

“She’s gone,” his voice was low and steady like he didn’t quite believe it. 

“Who?” Morgan asked, even though he had an awful feeling that he already knew the answer.

“Moma,” Reid's voice broke. His body trembling and tears falling. He made such ugly pained sobs that Morgan wanted to break down too. I was like he was back in Chicago comforting his youngest sister after the death of their father. 

Derek knew the feeling of hopeless that comes with the death of a parent. The feeling of emptiness after the guilt subsides. He knew that Spencer was not okay, not even close. 

He tried desperately to get Spencer to talk to him, but the kid would always insist that he was fine. He said that he was going to talk to a therapist. That was enough to get Derek to calm down, but now he realizes he was a fool to just believe the kid’s lie. He was a profiler. He should have seen right through him! 

As he came to a stop at the red light, he reminded himself that Spencer probably just slept through his alarm. Rossi had mentioned to Derek that Reid had been staying late at work ever since his mother died three weeks ago. It wouldn’t be surprising for him to have been sleep deprived. Though, no matter how much Derek wanted to believe that Spencer was fine, he had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t. Derek’s knuckles clenched the wheel so tightly that his fingers had started to cramp. He flexed them and took a deep breath. He was less than five minutes from Spencer’s apartment now. 

“Spencer? It’s Derek,” he yelled through the door. A few moments later, he still didn’t hear any movement from inside. “Reid? We have work. You need to wake up!”

Dead silence.

He sighed and knocked again. The apartment next to him opened and a middle-aged woman limped out on her crutches. She struggled to get her purse situated while trying to stay balanced. 

“Oh, here let me help you out,” he said as he looped her purse around her shoulder and closed her apartment door. 

“Thanks,” she said, a little out of breath.

“Sorry to bother you, but have you heard Spencer at all today?”

“Is he the one who blasts classical music all night?”

He chuckled, “Sounds like him.”

“Not much. There was a bunch of banging earlier this morning at around 4 a.m. but it been rather quiet since then. I think he might have been arguing with someone, but I really only heard one voice.”

“Okay, thank you for your time.” 

She nodded and limped away. 

‘Maybe he was on the phone with someone,’ Derek thought. When Spencer rented this place, he gave Derek his spare key so he could visit whenever. Though, Derek had only used it once or twice.

As he opened the door, he was instantly put on edge. There were books and papers scattered all about and trash was overflowing the bin. The record player was spinning a vinyl that had finished all the songs. The static made his heart beat quicker. He slowly walked over and turned off the machine. 

Behind him, he heard a sniffle. He crept towards where the sound came from with his gun ready in case of an intruder. He could see that light was coming from a crack in the bathroom door. His heart felt like it was going to explode as he pushed the door open. 

Laying in front of the toilet with a bottle of bourbon in one hand and a gun in the other was Spencer Reid. On the floor around him was an empty bottle of Dilaudid and a needle. There was still a band around Reid’s arm. He looked like shit. His hair was greasy and tossed about. His clothes were the exact same ones from Friday and they were stained with vomit. 

“Ried?” Derek asked with a slight tremor. He lowered his gun and stared at this friend. His lips parted in confusion. 

“Did you know that five percent of adults attempt suicide in their lifetime?” Spencer asked. His speech was slurred. 

“Spencer?”

“90% of people who commit suicide have some type of psychiatric disorder and people who are addicted to drugs are six times more likely to attempt suicide than those who aren’t.” He continued, still not looking at Derek. 

“Pretty Boy, please, just look at me,” he pleaded. He had never seen Spencer so broken. Spencer slowly looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. He looked so pale and fragile that Derek was afraid that he could pass out at any moment. 

“I-I need help,” Spencer struggled to say. His voice was caught in his throat. “I’m not okay.” Tears began to well up in his eyes and his lip quivered. “Every night for the past week, I’ve gone home and loaded my gun,” he said, mindlessly staring at the gun in his hand, “and just sat there listening to my mother’s old records.”

“Spencer, no…” Derek said hopelessly. Not Spencer. Anyone but Spencer. 

“I can’t help it. The clouds in my mind make it too hard to function. I’m losing myself in them,” he said with slight anger. “It started with my keys, then it turned into hours, and now… now sometimes I forget what apartment I live in. I’ve lived here for two years, Derek. Two fucking years! It's like looking at a static tv, but no matter what way I turn the antenna the picture is never clear.”

“We can get you help, kid.” 

Spencer laughed sarcastically, “Help. Help! I researched everything trying to find a cure for my mother’s illness and I never did. The last time I visited her she didn’t recognize me at all. She died not knowing who I was. Can you even imagine? Trying to hold your mother's hand only for her to pull away and have no idea who you are? It’s worse than being tortured.” He trailed off towards the end with tears streamed down his face. “I can’t go on like this anymore.” 

“What are you saying?” 

He doesn’t answer, instead, his thin fingers gripped the pistol tighter.

“Listen to me, Pretty Boy, I’ve been where you are,” Derek confessed. “I prayed to God for an end back when I still lived in Chicago. I’ve lost count of the number of times I walked into my bathroom and poured a handful of Tylenol into my palm. I held the same choice in my hands.”

“What stopped you?” Spencer asked, his voice sounded hollow and his head shifted to the side.

“My family,” he replies. “I thought about how my father’s death affected them. My oldest sister, Sarah, was very outgoing, but after Pop’s death, she became reserved and angry at the world. Desiree started cutting herself to replace her pain. And Momma, well, she stopped eating. They all became shells of who they were. I knew I couldn’t put them through that again.”

“Well, it's a good thing I don’t have any family left then.” He then took a swig from his bottle. Another tear falling. 

“Don’t you dare say that. You have me, you’ve got JJ, and Emily, Hotch, Penelope, Rossi. Think about how hard it would be for JJ to explain to Henry why his favorite Uncle is gone.” Derek said, his voice rising. “Don’t you dare ever tell me you don’t have people who would care. Who would give their lives to save yours. You’re family Spencer.”

Reid just stared at him. Profiling him as if he didn’t believe Derek. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m slowly losing my mind just like my mother. I won’t be any help to the team, I’ll only slow you guys down. I thought that if I could save her then it would save me too, but she’s gone and so will I.”

“Think about what you’re doing, Spence! Do you really want to die or are you afraid of the future? Because I know that when I was where you are, I was terrified of dying but it seemed like my only option. I had lost faith in the idea that tomorrow would be better than today. I just wanted my suffering to end. I wanted Carl to rot in prison for what he did to me. It took thirteen years for me to get justice. Imagine if I had taken those pills. I would have never been able to see that son-of-a-bitch get what he deserved. All of the work we do may seem insignificant at times, but they matter. The team needs you, the people need you,” Derek said, his voice breaking and tears now slipping from his own eyes. “I need you.”

Spencer brought his knees up to his chest and guiltily fidgeted with the hem of his pants.

“We all feel like what we are doing is hopeless sometimes. There will always be another case, another crime, another victim, but we are the difference between who and how often. Without our work, innocent people will die. People who we could have saved.”

“I can be replaced.”

“No, you can’t,” Derek said, taking a step closer, “The team isn’t complete without you.”

“Please, Derek, just go.”

“No.”

“I don’t want you to watch this.”

“Spencer, I told you no. If you think I’m just going to walk away from you then you’re more delusional than I thought.”

“Why wouldn’t I think that Derek?” Reid screamed like a wounded animal, “Everyone else has! My dad, Gideon, and now her… everyone leaves.”

Derek was silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. “Nothing and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for seeing you. The look in your eyes… I have only seen it in the lifeless. I guess you really have made your mind up,” Derek said in a defeated tone. 

“What you're not going to try to stop me anymore?” Spencer’s voice quivered in slight fear. His eyes were large and he swallowed harshly. 

“I wouldn't have even if you really wanted to die, but you don't. The fear and sorrow in your voice when you thought I had given you on you too proves that. You've been suffering silently, but you don't have to. I ain't ever gonna give up on you, Spence. You're my best friend.” Derek squatted down in front of Spencer, taking the bottle and gun with little protest from the younger man. “I’ll remind you however many times you need to hear it until you’ve gotten it through that gigantic brain of yours.”

He unloaded the gun and discarded it into the hallway. 

“Come here,” he motioned. Spencer weakly wrapped his arms around Derek’s torso, letting his head fall on to Derek’s shoulder. Derek breathed a sigh of relief. He tried to keep his tears at bay as to not alert Spencer of his silent break down but Spencer must have felt the sporadic thumping in Derek’s chest. The man pulled back just enough to rest his head on Derek’s. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For putting you through this,” Spencer sniffled, “For being so damn weak.”

“You are anything but weak, Spencer Reid. You are one of the strongest people I know.”

Spencer chuckled sadly at that.

“I’m serious. You’ve risked your life more than any of the team, victim and unsub alike. You’ve overcome being bullied your whole life. You’ve beaten addiction once and I know you’ll do it again. Now, you’re gonna beat grief.”

“What if I can’t?”

“You can and I’ll help you. Whatever you need.” 

Spencer grips him tighter and lets out the last of his tears. 

“I love you,” he whispers so quietly Derek almost doesn’t hear him. 

“I love you too, Pretty Boy.”


End file.
